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Laos in the rainy season - the smell of wet dirt and rotting wood; and the refuge of the dryer spaces between tattered umbrellas and leaking roofs - such a fine line between the romantic and the depressing. And the sense of waiting - waiting for the end of the rains and that brief period of perfect weather before the weight of the summer heat blurs all the better parts of a life almost completely disassociated from the hurried and complicated cities I grew up in.